


Decisions, Decisions

by roboticdragons



Series: Inky Reflections [2]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Chapter 3 Spoilers, Gen, I wrote this in half an hour instead of doing homework, Ink, The day I stop caring about the projectionist is the day I die, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 15:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12235968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roboticdragons/pseuds/roboticdragons
Summary: Norman sees something he wasn't supposed to.





	Decisions, Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote another Norman fic because I'm really focused on this character and don't want to do homework XD. Enjoy!

"...now what should I do with you?"  
That was the first sound he heard as he awoke. What had happened? Everything was a blur. As he slowly became aware of his surroundings, Norman felt something holding him down. The surface he was lying on was hard and cold, and at his wrists, waist and ankles rope bit into his skin. A shudder ran through him; why was it so cold? How did he get here?

The last thing he remembered before blacking out was...Mr Drew's office? Yes, that was it. He'd been going to finally complain about that Sammy Lawrence. Never mind Mr Drew's quirks, that man's behaviour had just gone too far! Songs were being finished half as fast as they'd used to, on top of all the issues the studio was having. Someone had to do something about the man's behaviour!

But when the door creaked open, the sight that greeted him was stranger and more disturbing that anything Sammy had done. What looked like a pentagram took up most of the room in the office. Posters dotted around seemed to glow, bathed in the sinister light emanating from the pentagram. Joey himself was knelt on the floor, hand coated in what looked like ink and...a red substance. Norman could only get a glimpse of the thing in the middle, a pulsating, wriggling mass of darkness before Joey's head whipped around to stare at the projectionist.

Norman was speechless for a second. Then his mouth opened, he felt a strangled scream rise up in his throat. Before he could utter a sound the door slammed open and Norman felt his vision begin to darken. That pentagram...it was doing something to him! That was the last thing he thought before waking up strapped to this cold table. Back to the present.

The voice that had woken him was Joeys voice, but so much softer and sinister than what Norman recalled him sounding like. The man loomed over him, and Norman tried to say something, anything. But fabric was tied round his mouth preventing him from speaking.

"Hmm...you don't have any connections to the characters, so I can't use you for them...but I can't let you tell the others." Joey ran his eyes up and down Norman, seemingly analysing him, deciding what to do. "Decisions, decisions..." The man's gaze was drawn to an object resting at the far side of the room: a projector. Joey's eyes narrowed, and a smile crept onto his face as a wonderful, terrible idea formed. He stepped out of Norman's field of view, letting the projectionist finally see what was being him. The ink machine loomed above, ink slowly dripping onto Norman's clothes.

The sound of grinding machinery suddenly filled the air, and a flood of ink poured out of the machine's spout. Norman tried to yell before liquid filled his throat. He was choking! He was going to die! He was...slipping into darkness once more.

\-------------------------

When he awoke again he was still strapped to a table, but he felt...different. A strange sense of numbness was prevalent throughout his body. Norman strained against the straps, trying to get a look at himself, and almost screamed. His body was dripping with ink...no, it WAS ink! Ink that shifted and stirred like ants on his skin.

He had but a moment to process these changes before something lowered onto his head, and machinery whirred once more.

He screamed.

Something was tearing his head apart! It blocked his vision, even with his muffled hearing Norman could still hear his own agonized cries filling the room. Why, why wasn't he blacking out! Death would be more welcome than this never-ending pain that sliced through him like a burning knife. He didn't even notice more spikes of pain on his shoulder, on his legs and arms. The pain dominated his mind and thoughts, blocking everything out until nothing remain.

Finally, his vision faded for the third time, and comforting darkness enveloped him.

\-------------------------

It was so bright. Light filled the room, and he couldn't tell where it came from. What happened? He tried to speak but nothing came out. His head felt odd...so heavy and painful. Where was he? Ink flooded the floor. He could see reflections in the liquid. He saws a dark figure kneeling down. It's head...his head...It was a projector? His thoughts felt slow. Where was everyone? He tried to call out. He felt vibrations, like he was making noise but...why couldn't he hear anything. Nothing but the whirring of a projector.

Why was it so bright?


End file.
